As Certain Dark Things
by The Celestial Anachronism
Summary: That dark place deep inside of him had always been there, angry and frustrated and desperate to get out...Butters just needed a reason, any reason, to set it free.


TCA: Welcome to my first posted South Park fanfiction! Honestly I have no clue what I was thinking when I wrote this. It's Butters-centric, contains NO pairings, and has character death. Please review and tell me what you think.

South Park and its characters are copyrighted to Matt Stone, Trey Parker, and Comedy Central.

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><p>That dark place deep inside of him had always been there, angry and frustrated and desperate to get out, eager to harm in the way that he had been harmed. Little ways. He had vented his frustrations in little bursts of vindictiveness, colored sweet and innocent by his normally subservient demeanor. He couldn't drown the world with a gardern hose, but that didn't mean that he couldn't try.<p>

When he played at being someone, anyone, else he felt whole and alive in ways that he could not explain. Professor Chaos…Marjorine…the list went on and on. When he came back to reality, he was the brunt of everyone's jokes. His parents were constantly grounding him, and his father occasionally hit him. Sometimes when he played in his room, alone, he pretended that one of his schemes had worked, and that he ruled the world. He always felt better after that, although his father always had to yell, shattering the illusion.

As Butters grew older the years seemed to grow longer, and things just got worse. When Cartman pulled his pants down in front of the entire school at a pep rally, Butters had just sighed and tugged them back up, knowing that nothing would be done. He could hear the laughter that followed him as he walked off of the stage, knowing that he couldn't accept the award he was going to get for math competition without interrupting the rest of the rally. It didn't matter, he told himself, not in the long run. No one would remember his Hello Kitty boxers years down the road, and even if they did…he liked them. When Garrison called him a pussy for not wanting to dissect his frog he shook it off, or at least his public persona did.

Professor Chaos fumed out the Chemistry lab and half the school. No one blamed Leopold Butters Scotch, even when he laughed his best evil laugh. Several other students had to go to the hospital, and so did Garrison, but nobody was seriously injured. Even then, the resentment grew. Little things, passive aggressive acts, mischief. It no longer contained the rage, the sorrow, the hate. What had once kept the darkness at bay had become child's play.

And then he saw _them_ again. The Vampire Kids.

And then he watched the documentary, and realized that maybe he hadn't been as cured as he thought. Maybe it was just lurking under the surface, waiting to come back. Vampire lore was tricky, very trick. He relapsed, and became The Ungroundable again. He was pleased to discover that he could handle human food, but he didn't push it, didn't eat as much as he would have. He knew that he would need to drink blood, and soon, but he didn't know if he could stomach it. Blood, from what he remembered, tasted like Clammato juice.

But…maybe that was vampire blood, the taste a deterrent, so he wouldn't eat his own? A week later he determined that human blood tasted like copper, thick and rich, when he got into a fight with curly goth and bit into his palm. Maybe if that fight hadn't happened, things would have turned out differently. But it had happened, and he had gotten a taste.

The moment that he realized that he wasn't afraid anymore, that he no longer felt disgust, that he wanted more, was the moment that South Park was fucked. Yet again he targeted Cartman for his first victim, but the hesitation was gone. As he bared his fangs and bit into Eric's neck, felt the skin tear and the blood splurt, felt Cartman jerk and try to pull away, he felt alive, really and truly alive. It didn't matter that he was undead, he lived. He kept his hand over Cartman's mouth, muffling his screams and pushing him into the pillows with all he had. He knew he had hit an artery, had done it right. Medical textbooks had shown him the best way. As the heart pumped the blood flowed through the torn passage, into Butters' suckling mouth, making the process effortless he felt the world engulf him.

The body under him shivered, shook, shuddered, and finally gave up the fight. Glassy eyes stared in horror at the ceiling, breath coming in ragged pants. Butters took his hand away, smiled. Drank his fill and left.

Eric didn't survive, but Butters wasn't surprised, not really. He knew he could probably learn to feed without killing, but why should he bother? As long as his victims never drank from him, never came back, there would be no one to tell on him. Sitting in his room the next day, the bizarre murder of Eric Cartman on the news, he contemplated his new situation and came to a startling conclusion. South Park really wasn't big enough for more than one hungry vampire, not if he didn't want people to be suspicious. Clammato juice taste aside…

Smiling, he licked the blood off the corner of his lip and stood. He wondered if Vampir and the rest of the South Park Vampire Society had parents who were listed in the phonebook.


End file.
